


Dismiss Your Fears

by raven_rising



Series: Bellarke One-shots/Prompts [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, character contemplation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 02:53:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2716247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_rising/pseuds/raven_rising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>""...My head goes a little quieter when he’s around.”<br/>Clarke bites at her lip and twists the ends of her hair in between her fingertips.<br/>“Oh, no,” Abby thinks and she knows she might have lost a war she only ever wanted Clarke to experience victory in.""<br/>Based on a tumblr prompt: Abby already disapproves of Bellamy's influence on Clarke so finding out about their relationship by walking in on them in bed together really doesn't help her warm up to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dismiss Your Fears

**Author's Note:**

> Thing in which Abby walks in on Clarke and Bellamy together and as a consequence she questions things about them.  
> So really, I deviated from the prompt a lot and it turned into a character study, including that discussion Abby and Clarke haven't had regarding Jake.  
> X-posted to Tumblr [here](http://ravenrising.tumblr.com/post/104308094110/dimiss-your-fears).

Abigail Griffin has just seen more of Bellamy Blake’s uncovered skin then she ever thought she would, not counting a medical emergency. There is a flash of the back of his right arm, the heel of his right foot, the back of his knee as her eyes move rapid fire as she tries to process what she sees. His lower back and…  
  
She spins around and puts a hand to her forehead, shielding the left side of her face and keeping her vision restricted to the dirt under her shoes.  
  
“Mom!” Clarke shouts.  
  
Abby can only imagine the way Clarke’s neck and face have blushed pink with embarrassment. Abby knows that as fact because she can hear the humiliation in Clarke’s voice. Abby is not naive, thank you very much. She knows Clarke is a young woman and has hormones. She is, after all, a medical professional. That does not mean that she ever wanted to be visually confronted with the evidence of it-she could have done without that. Abby sighs and tries not to pay attention to the whisper of cloth as it is brushed against skin.

“Sorry, Abby,” Bellamy says and he sighs just a little. He himself does not sound embarrassed, but that is Bellamy Blake for you.  
  
Abigail Griffin leaves as fast as possible and decides to pretend what just happened never occurred.

* * *

  
Abigail Griffin is not that honest with herself. She thought she never wanted to speak of it. Instead, she attempts multiple times to think of what she wants to say to Clarke or to Bellamy and she cannot fathom where to begin. She does not want to call it disappointment in Clarke’s choice, but she is without another word for it at the current moment.  
  
She will stare at Bellamy during the day-to-day tasks they all complete and narrow her eyes unintentionally and turn it over in her mind. She watches Clarke and Bellamy argue over simple decisions and asks herself why even as she bites her tongue and chooses not to interfere. She always thought Clarke would do better with someone calmer, someone a little more even keeled. She cannot always hear the words Bellamy and Clarke sometimes hiss and spit at each other, only read in their body language that they are arguing. She thinks, in those moments, that she will never accept a man who only ever disagrees with Clarke and never compromises. She does not think Jake would have, either and wishes that she could ask him out loud instead of just hearing the echoes of his potential responses in her head.

* * *

  
Abigail Griffin sometimes thinks that her daughter is a complete stranger. The way Clarke stares at her and says nothing is akin to looking into the face of someone she has never met before and only heard secondhand stories about. Abby heaves in a breath, preparing her next statement in this argument as she does. She really had not meant for another battle to break out between Clarke and herself, but tensions were running high just like they always seemed to these days. Clarke was determined to shake free from the shackles only the younger citizens of the camp saw and Abby was only attempting to keep her within Camp Jaha in an effort to protect the last person she had left.  
  
 _“Please,”_ Clarke intones, shutting her eyes and shaking her head.  
  
The single word is long and drawn out, and Abby can hear the frustration and exhaustion in it. It is not the tone of a child pleading with their mother to concede, but rather the tone of an adult asking for a cessation in the fight. She can see Bellamy Blake on the other side of camp, gun slung across his shoulder, and with an intuition that mothers seem to exclusively possess she seems to somehow just know that it is his fault that Clarke is asking to leave their electrified borders. His stance says it if nothing else. He shuffles his feet from side to side, dust rising to swirl in little clouds around him. He stops and grips at the semi-automatic a little bit tighter when he notices her staring. He raises his eyebrows and stares unblinking, but Abby can recognize the expression for what it is. It is a plea in the way Bellamy Blake usually pleads-a hint of arrogance mixed into the supplication. She recognizes in Clarke some of the mannerisms Bellamy has and she knows it is from his undue influence. She thinks of walking in on them previously and tries not to let how she feels show on her face. Abby is sure it is probably a losing battle.  
  
“I’m not an idiot, Clarke,” Abby says. “I know you’re going to go with or without my permission. Please, just be safe.”  
  
Clarke puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes in a gesture meant to comfort and act as a promise. She is gone in a whirlwind a moment later. Abby knows she can safely say that Bellamy Blake is the influence on Clarke that leads her to these arguments.

* * *

  
"You must be joking," Abby Griffin exclaims.  
  
Really, it is the first phrase she thinks of and her stating it is an automatic response. She stands aghast as there is a flash of the pale skin of her daughter's back before tanned arms bring a thin blanket around her shoulders.  
  
"Either you two have the worst timing possible, or I’m being laughed at in some way,” Abby scoffs, disgust clear in her voice.  
  
She recalls not-so-secret touches-hands on shoulders and fingers brushing and then she thinks of how she has seen this once and never wanted to be confronted with it again. She turns and walks out, her feet jarring against the impact of the dirt against the soles of her shoes. She does not travel far, just stands and waits outside for Clarke to exit the tent. She listens to the murmur of voices and the rustling of clothing being pulled back on and tries not to think of why.  
  
Blake strides out; a confidence in his walk that Abby knows translates to essentially everything he does. It speaks of his role as a leader, as a protector and as a young man. Abby finds that she does not like that fact. Bellamy Blake is a proverbial thorn in her side. She knows that Clarke is stubborn on the same level, but it grates at her with him like it does not with her.  
  
"Abby," Bellamy nods at her, respect and caution two warring sides in the motion.  
  
Abigail Griffin says nothing, instead tracks his form with her eyesight as he walks away. She chooses to say nothing because she is-usually-one to observe and take action in matters that are not an emergency situation. The last time she did her consequence was watching her husband be pulled out into the inky depths of the universe and condemning her to a life alone.  
  
"You can come in now," Clarke invites.  
  
Abby chooses to ignore the hesitation in Clarke's voice for the moment and parts the flimsy material that is the entrance of the tent with the back of her hand. Clarke sits on her camp bed, blond tresses covering her face as she is hunched over to lace up her boots. She sits up with a sigh, spine straight and an expression that shows no regret.  
  
"Bellamy Blake, really?" Abby asks. “I know we’ve been here before but it seems I’m being forced to bring it up.”  
  
Abby folds her arms, fingers gripping at opposite biceps, and her feet at shoulder width apart. It is a stance she has taken before, mostly with Jake. It speaks of annoyance, of the sharp taste of disappointment and also defense.  
  
“Yes, really,” Clarke says, although her statement really speaks of nothing at all.  
  
Setting foot on earth was Clarke’s epiphany that while she might have needed help, she no longer truly had to answer to the authority figure that is her mother or others if she is willing to fight for it. Being condemned to potential death was the catalyst for that moment, but the fight was a lesson Bellamy helped to instill in her.  
  
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Clarke insists.  
  
She truly does not want whatever undefined thing hovers between her and Bellamy to further the rift between Abby and herself.  
  
“What way, Clarke? I am your mother-” Abby says.  
  
Clarke rolls her eyes and huffs. “This way that you watch and consistently disapprove. You’re judging a relationship you don’t even understand.”  
  
Abby glances around and reaches out to grab the chair sitting in front of the makeshift desk. She sits across from Clarke and wraps her hands together and sets them on her knee, subconsciously evening the playing field that is this discussion.  
  
“You didn’t let me finish. Just because I’m your mother doesn’t mean I’m trying to control you or anything of the sort. I love you, Clarke and I want what’s best for you,” Abby explains, gesturing with her hands for emphasis.  
  
“I know,” Clarke explains. “I’m not the person I was on the Ark, Mom, in a lot of ways. Things that happened there made me into a different person, but being sent here is what finished the process.”  
  
Abby sighs and stares directly into Clarke’s eyes, wondering idly if she had ever noticed before that Clarke had so many traits that Jake possessed.  
  
“I don’t think he’s good for you,” Abby firmly states.  
  
She sees Clarke’s eyes narrow just a bit, but she realizes that Clarke controls herself in an entirely different way than she ever did on the ship. She holds herself differently too, she realizes. Clarke is too comfortable in her role here to say that the way she is sitting now is rigid, but there is strength in the up tilted chin and rolled back shoulders. Clarke stares at her, unblinking, for a moment.  
  
Then, softly but somehow tinged with a hint of anger says, “You don’t get to make that choice for me, not anymore. You made decisions before and they were the wrong ones. I’m working on forgiving you for what you did, but I won’t forget it.”  
  
Abby knows this is the problem that has been pushing between them and demanding attention without words but clutches at them with a shouting voice. Abigail Griffin knows that she has made numerous wrong choices and that one of those was helping to condemn her husband to die, however much she went into it with a plethora of good intentions.  
  
“Bellamy Blake is rash, Clarke,” Abby says in a quiet voice, full of the knowledge that speaks of past experience in that certain way mothers do. “He makes decisions completely with his heart and sometimes other people suffer for it. I made the wrong choices, Clarke, I know it better than anyone except for you. I don’t want to see you on the wrong side of that.”  
  
“I made wrong choices, too,” Clarke murmurs, pain so very evident in her eyes; in the lines around her mouth from the frown she wears.  
  
Clarke smiles and Abby sees Jake in it for it is full of hope and wonder and the potential for joy. Abby feels her eyes prickle and burn because she cannot remember the last time she was gifted with Clarke’s smile.  
  
“He balances me, Mom,” Clarke says. “I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but that’s how we live down here. He rules on impulse and things just sort of fall into place for him. I over think things and think of every consequence before I ever take a step. My head goes a little quieter when he’s around.”  
  
Clarke bites at her lip and twists the ends of her hair in between her fingertips.  
  
 _“Oh, no,”_ Abby thinks and she knows she might have lost a war she only ever wanted Clarke to experience victory in.  
  
Abby remembers when Clarke was a little girl, with unmarred skin and laughter that rang out to make heads turn in her direction. She wants to warn her, to tell her that looking at the sun will cause you to lose your sight but then she realizes that Clarke has always burned brighter and wears the radiation from her fallout like armor so no one can hurt her.  
  
Clarke has been burned before, but she has always had the ability to use the ashes to make something new and beautiful grow.  
  
“I see his face in my dreams,” Clarke whispers, her words thick with tears.  
  
Abby instinctively knows that they are speaking of Jake. She stands from the chair she has been sitting in and sits next to Clarke, enfolding her into a hug. Here, in this moment, forgiveness is inconsequential as they share their mutual grief over their loss.  
  
Her face has changed, taken on an odd look of disbelief. “He’ll smile at me but he looks so sad sometimes and I reach out to try and grab him but suddenly he’s just…gone. I don’t dream as much when Bellamy is around. Can you understand that, even just a little?”  
  
“I can understand that,” Abby whispers back.  
  
Abby thinks of a time when she was a girl growing up on a ship, surrounded by the creaks and moans of a hunk of metal-the only thing protecting them from a vast nothingness-and she remembers how she dreamed. She remembers Jake and how he could calm those fears for her. She holds on to Clarke a little tighter as she can almost envision the way their relationship shifts just a little.

* * *

Bellamy is next to Clarke whenever possible, like she serves as his axis for his gravitational pull. Abby is still not one hundred percent alright with the idea of Bellamy and Clarke together, but she can understand a little now. She watches as Clarke’s face and shoulders release their tension and the furrow between her brows disappears. Bellamy Blake is nothing she wanted for her daughter. She envisioned someone calm and quiet-the ability to be strong without cruelty, to love without pain behind it. She just never counted on Clarke being the calm one.   
  
Bellamy Blake might disappoint her in a lot of ways, but he surprises her sometimes too. She mistook his passion for his anger. He has pain, she cannot doubt that, but that pain helps him to understand Clarke’s a little bit better. She watches Clarke lean in to him and knows that Bellamy serves as a type of fallout shelter from the storms Clarke is at the center of-from the passion and hurt Clarke can wield like a weapon and how she can burn like the sun. She is okay, for the most part, in that moment. She knows Jake would be, too.


End file.
